Indian Princesses and the Great Feather Debacle.

Growing up the YMCA offered a little bonding program called "Indian Princesses" for Dads and Daughters. Pretty sure that name is no longer "PC"... gotta love being a child of the 80s! My tribe, "The Tuscoroarah," met monthly in different tribe members garages. Meetings included the ever present NKOTB tape blasting from a boom box and all the Cheetos, Bugles, juice barrels, Clear Pepsi, doughnuts, Doritos, and cupcakes an 8 year old could eat. The dads got a cooler full of "Dad Stuff"... aka beer. Let me remind you of the main IP creed: no mom's allowed. Pow-Wows usually took place the same night as Junior League meetings as to never let a mom witness our sacred tribal rituals. The Dads would let us loose with all the glitter glue, puff paint, and feathers needed to create a typically unrecognizable masterpiece. I remember my mom (elementary school art teacher) proclaiming when I would come home "Oh look what Seattle (me) and Tacoma (my Dad) created tonight!" (insert extreme sarcasm and a roll of the eye towards my Dad).

Well I had a small flashback of the feathered glory days twice in the last 24 hours. The BF and I decided to let Pete try and be a "big dog" and not be crated yesterday. I came home at lunch and he was great. I came home after work and not a thing was out of place. Well boy did I push my luck. After our typical post work park jaunt I left for study group. Upon returning my living room was a feathery mess! Bird dogs and goose down pillows DO NOT MIX! Pete sulked and gave me a very apologetic kiss while I was cleaning up the mess.

Fast forward 24 hours later. Pete's friend Gracie is here for a sleep over while her mom is out of town. I was working on my taxes when they both ran into my bedroom with....feathers stuck to their noses! The little black and white beasts had dug the pillow carcass out of the trash. Amazing what goes around comes around. Now I know what the mom's felt like when they finally were let back into their garages after our meetings. Ouch.

Here is a picture of Pete and Gracie from Halloween. They are just like 5 year olds. Play, Play, Play, Play Harder, Play, Whine, Sleep.